"Everyone person also has a right to shelter and to sustainance and to have worth," Anthony said, carefully trying to keep his anger and disbelief at this backwards thinking to himself. "Midgard enslaved other Midgardians out of a need for power, dominance, or because they thought themselves better than their peers. But where I'm from, every Midgardian starts the same. Everyone has the same opportunity to find worth in their life and if they can not, they are given worth. And food. And shelter. And work....we don't pay for it. We don't subjugate others to get it. The price of freedom is extremely high. You can be free and nothing. The vast majority of your people probably are nothing. Their lives have little meeting. but each one of my people have a place and a purpose. That's because Midgardians deserve it. Asgardians, Vanir, Jotnar...they're not better than we are. Everyone is the same that lives in the branches of Yggdrassil. But we all have our place. Asgard rules and protects. The Vanir have their magic. And Midgard serves."
Anthony sat forward, watching the frown on Steve's face without understanding it. He'd been in many verbal sparring matches before, but never with this particularly blue pair of eyes gazing at him.
And maybe he ought to start there.
"Steven and I were born around the same time and brought to the Training Village. I've known him my entire life. As a child he was very sickly. He could hardly breathe, his eyes were terrible and he was forever catching colds. After a few months of watching this progress, our Trainers brought him to the city and he was given healing honey." Steve would know what that was from Bucky's imbibing of it. "And when he returned, he was fit and fall and he didn't get sick anymore. If we were merely property, he would have been discarded to make room for another, healthier Midgardian who could learn to read and write and fight without any of that. Yes, Steve, we may have masters, we may be owned, and we may be property, but we are well cared for. Even those of us who are not lucky enough to be chosen as part of a personal slave stable and who do other tasks around the Realms are cared for until they die."
no subject
Anthony sat forward, watching the frown on Steve's face without understanding it. He'd been in many verbal sparring matches before, but never with this particularly blue pair of eyes gazing at him.
And maybe he ought to start there.
"Steven and I were born around the same time and brought to the Training Village. I've known him my entire life. As a child he was very sickly. He could hardly breathe, his eyes were terrible and he was forever catching colds. After a few months of watching this progress, our Trainers brought him to the city and he was given healing honey." Steve would know what that was from Bucky's imbibing of it. "And when he returned, he was fit and fall and he didn't get sick anymore. If we were merely property, he would have been discarded to make room for another, healthier Midgardian who could learn to read and write and fight without any of that. Yes, Steve, we may have masters, we may be owned, and we may be property, but we are well cared for. Even those of us who are not lucky enough to be chosen as part of a personal slave stable and who do other tasks around the Realms are cared for until they die."